The Search for Happiness

A wise refrigerator magnet once said "A happy wife is a happy life." 

And while I believe this to be true--a partner's happiness does definitely make life easier--when I was solely a wife, my happiness could ebb and wane without too much havoc, whereas now that I am Mama and the default parent, happiness takes a form of something more--notion that can seem unattainable especially for something as grand as life. The possibility of being happy doesn't come from making sure your wife (or partner) is, but more from understanding the meaning of joy and satisfaction in one's own life. 

Five years ago B.C.--before children--worrying about myself and making sure I was happy was a challenge at times. I have battled more depressive episodes in my life that I have just recently come to understand are brought on by my 35+ years of, at times crippling, anxiety. I didn't know that what I felt and how I was reacting was anxiety. I didn't realize the extent of childhood wounds and trauma from severely lackluster parents could cause my happiness to continue on a rollercoaster well into my early adulthood. And to be quite frank, from teenage years on, whenever anyone asked me what I wanted to be as an adult, my answer was ALWAYS happy, even if I was not quite sure what that entailed or how to attain it. Happy was this elusive thing that was felt in bursts of emotions and memories. It wasn't something I would have qualified my younger years with.

Meeting my friend, who later became my crush, and then my reluctant boyfriend before he was 100% enamored with me enough to let me share his tiny studio loft and then his last name--HAHAH Ralph--was a turning point in my happiness scale.  I went from wishing for happiness to understanding a little bit about what it takes to be happy. Being in a mature relationship with reality rearing its head with every breath and responsibility one has made me yearn for a life where I was satisfied with myself and my "hopefully one day" family at the end of every day.

With my husband being a whole half of my world for going on thirteen years now, a realness that isn't all sunshines and social media posts, but also my safe harbor and relentless provider of both laughter and irritation I was able to wade into the pool of simmering joy. A few months into our relationship I knew he was endgame if only for being next to him felt like I had found my home and he was the only one I wanted to rage against while in rush hour traffic when we're both hungry and a tad petty.

Happiness was a thing that I didn't have to search for with him, if only because we were real with ourselves and together. I could be happy or I could be angry. Sad, or frustrated. The way I was feeling wasn't a dealbreaker with him, but rather, he could be a buffer or a safe spot for me to feel these things. I could talk to him. That alone provided much rest for my searching soul and helped me begin to see that being happy wasn't as much as a thing, but a choice and realization of one's self. A satisfaction.

Becoming a mother a bit over five years ago proved that the happiness I had found with R would be expanded and lit up like the Fourth of July, while at the same time shaking my happiness down to the bare roots of what I had found in the previous years with my husband. Parenthood changes you so drastically and intrinsically, but also stealthily. My changes started during pregnancy that was technically high risk when I literally put the weight of our new world (our child) on my shoulders, or rather uterus, and was so cautiously hopeful and scared that I altered how I acted and thought. R used to joke that pregnancy mellowed me out. But really, I think I just adjusted my brightness so that nothing--including joy and happiness that I felt--would overpower my state and somehow leave me childless.

Then you have the kid. With our oldest son, seeing him seconds after birth was like someone hit a technicolor lightbulb and my only feeling was  joy. I never knew a love like I had for B. I had had an intimate relationship with him while I was pregnant, the secret of knowing I alone protected my child, that he would be soothed by my hand or beating of my heart. But when he came into the world, everything imploded in the best--and sometimes scariest--way. 

Now, I am a mother of two and still working on being satisfied each night as I go to bed. Of finding joy and peace in the loud and quiet moments the walls of my house sees. I find myself getting lost in the roll of a being a mom, then a wife, and forget myself. When that happens, I lose grip on the anchor that keeps me from going adrift to search for that elusive happiness. It's a juggling act to manage all my roles and exceptions while most importantly keeping myself in sight. But it's something to continue to think over and strive for if only to continue on my search for happiness.

-- Just Lindsey